Red Tree

I used to hate the sun.
I stayed indoors with rain in my heart.
You showed me the light.
You led me into the woods to touch the trees.
You made my paper willow wish come true.
You made the forest real.

You drew a red leaf on my wrist.
Each crimson line is cut into my skin.
An indelible reminder of the veins beneath,
the branches of the tree inside,
that blooms bright red for you.

And when you smile at me,
your white light radiates.
Its healing heat eradicates each darkened space within.
And I forget,
that once upon a time
my heart was broken.
And I forget,
'cos all I see is you.

Odd Socks (written for a writing challenge-not great but still a poem i guess)

I remember the first time I visited him here.
His dog ate my sock.
It was purple with white spots,
the sock not the dog.
I remember I thought it was cute.

I kept the odd sock that was left,
washed, dried, and saved, in my drawer.
Hidden there amongst the pairs,
useless, but too nice to throw away.

How fast a year can pass.

Now I hang odd socks on the line, his and mine.
While the dog eats rocks.
I call him in, he runs away. I wish for goblins every day.
It’s not that I’m a devil. I don’t despise the dog.
He’s lovely, when he sleeps.
His whimpering dreams and running legs are sweet and
when he rests his wide black head against my foot,
I cannot help but like him, stroke him, rub his orange belly hair.

But when he wakes he steals each peaceful moment. He chews the atmosphere.
Affection is aggression. He’s a dominator, aggravator. I miss my cat.
I miss the easy bliss of open doors and cups on floors.
I wish for coffee tables, candles glowing in the dark, the absence of the bark,
A silent space, a place for whispers, not one word commands.

But Beauty lives here with the Beast and that I cannot leave.
So I hang odd socks on the line, his and mine.
While the dog eats rocks.